The Mating Run by Leeka

Safe
So, here I am, watching Victor scratch his head in confusion, wondering out loud
why his claiming bite didn’t work.
“Something's not right.”
And honestly, I can't help but laugh. It's like watching a magician who messed up
a trick, and now everyone is left wondering what went wrong. But in this case, the
trick was supposed to be some mystical bond, and all I got was a painful
reminder of my naivety.
He mutters something about it not working as expected, and Zeke, always the
voice of reason, asks if Victor even bothered to read the pamphlet. I can’t contain
my laughter at this point. The pamphlet, the one that probably no one reads until
things go south.
Classic.
But then Zeke drops a bombshell. The trackers inside us aren't just trackers-
they're pheromone inducers. And apparently, every single thing in the field was a
pheromone inducer. I try to wrap my head around it.
I can't decide whether to be relieved that there's no mystical bond or irritated that
Victor literally took a bite out of me. It's absurd, and I find myself laughing again.
Maybe it's the sheer ridiculousness of the situation or the fact that life has a way
of turning expectations into a chaotic mess.
Victor looks like he’s about to say something, but Zeke beats him to it.
“You're a f**king idiot, that's what you are.”
Zeke declares, and for a moment, I appreciate the simplicity of his words.
No sugarcoating, just a straightforward assessment of the situation.
Safe
I look at Zeke, and we share a moment of understanding. The absurdity of it all
hangs in the air like a punchline to an inside joke.
Victor finally speaks, his voice a mixture of frustration and confusion.
“But the claiming bite is supposed to create a bond!”
He protests, as if the universe owes him an explanation. I roll my eyes. The
universe doesn’t owe anyone anything, especially not an explanation for failed
magical bonds.
Zeke shakes his head, a bemused smile on his face.
“Did you even read the pamphlet?”
He asks, his tone a mix of exasperation and amusement. It's a rhetorical question
at this point. Who reads the pamphlet until everything falls apart?
Zeke explains the intricacies of Hunters and Hiders, and how Victor's claim was
nothing more than a physical act with no mystical repercussions. I feel a strange
mix of relief and irritation.
Victor looks at me, his expression a mix of confusion and frustration.
“But I bit her!” he protests again, as if the act of biting should have automatically
triggered a cosmic connection. I can't help but shake my head. The simplicity of
his logic is almost endearing, in a comically clueless way. “This isn't fair!”
Zeke doesn't hold back. “You bit a huge chunk of her flesh, Victor. That's all you
did. Congratulations, you played yourself.”
I burst into laughter. It's a laughter that comes from the depths of my being, a
release of pent-up tension and absurdity. Victor's face contorts with a mix of
embarrassment and anger. It's a priceless reaction, and I revel in the absurdity of
the situation.
I wipe away tears of laughter, realizing that in this moment, I've found a strange
kind of liberation. Liberated from the expectations of cosmic bonds and magical
connections. Liberated from the weight of Victor's failed attempt at claiming. It's
like a weight lifted off my shoulders, replaced by the lightness of laughter.
Still bleeding. The pain throbs in my neck, and I feel a bit woozy. Zeke tears a
piece of his hoodie, and without a word, he covers my wound.
“Keep pressing on it,” he says, his voice steady. “But not too hard.”
I glance at him, confusion etched on my face. Why?
The world seems hazy, the edges blurred by the persistent pain and the growing
sense of faintness. But Zeke doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, he stands up,
his expression hardened, and grabs Victor by the collar.
I watch in a daze as Zeke delivers two swift punches to Victor's face. The sounds
of impact echo in the air, sharp and jarring. Victor stumbles backward, his hand
flying to his nose, blood trickling between his fingers. I blink, trying to make sense
of the scene unfolding before me. Zeke, the usually calm and composed one, is
unleashing his fury on Victor.
“You're lucky,” Zeke growls, his voice low and menacing. “Lucky that I have to
take care of her first.”
The words hang in the air, a palpable threat that adds another layer of tension. to
the already charged atmosphere.
I feel a strange mix of gratitude and confusion.
Zeke turns back to me, his eyes softening as he sees my bewildered expression.
“I'm here, Alina. What do you need?”
The piece of torn hoodie feels rough against my skin as I press it onto the
bleeding wound. The pain intensifies, but Zeke’s presence is a reassuring
constant. I steal a glance at Victor, who's still recovering from Zeke’s punches.
He's groaning in pain, crawling away from us. I don’t know where he’s going, and
frankly, I don't
care.
Safe
Zeke stands up, leaving me momentarily, and I feel a twinge of vulnerability. But
then he returns with a water bottle, offering it to me. “Drink.” he instructs, and I
obey, the cool liquid soothing my parched throat.
take a few sips, the water providing a momentary respite from the throbbing pain.
Zeke watches me, his eyes a mix of concern and determination. “We need to get
you out of here,” he says, his tone leaving no room for argument.
Losing blood, the world around me blurs, edges fading into a fog of confusion.
Zeke's voice cuts through the haze, urgent and commanding.
“Alina, keep your eyes open.” he says, his words a lifeline in the disorienting swirl
of sensations. “Come on, I need you to do this for me.”
I try to comply, but everything feels heavy, like I'm sinking into a dark pool. The
pain in my neck throbs, a persistent reminder of Victor's reckless actions. Zeke’s
hand is on my shoulder, a steadying presence in the midst of chaos. I want to ask
him what's happening, why there are growls and sirens echoing in the distance,
but my words get lost in the fog.
“Stay with me, Alina,” Zeke’s voice is firm, a lifeline in the growing storm. I blink,
struggling to keep my eyes open. “Please.”
The sirens wail, a mournful symphony, and the growls intensify. It's a cacophony
that mirrors the chaos within me.
I hear Victor scoff, his voice a grating interruption.
“No time for dramatics,” he declares, dismissive and callous. “Just f**k off and
leave me alone this time, you f**kers hear me?”
Zeke's grip on my shoulder tightens, his eyes locking onto mine. “Ignore him,
Alina. Focus on staying awake.” His words guide me through the disorientation. I
try to nod, but it feels like a heavy effort. The sirens, the growls, Victor's
dismissive words—they all swirl around me, a chaotic dance that threatens to pull
me under.
I hear Zeke mutter something, a low growl that matches the ominous sounds in
the distance. The world is dimming, the edges of consciousness slipping away
like
sand through my fingers. But i cling to Zeke’s voice, the anchor that keeps me
from sinking too deep.
The growls grow louder, more menacing, and the sirens intensify. It's like a
symphony of chaos, each note playing a part in the disorienting melody that
surrounds us. I want to ask Zeke what's happening, why everything feels like it's
spiraling out of control, but the words remain trapped in the fog that envelops my
mind.
Blood. It's like a scent, a signal that cuts through the air and travels far. I've heard
about certain animals being attracted to it, drawn to the metallic tang that hangs
in the wind. And now, as I feel the warmth trickling down my neck, I can’t help but
wonder if I've become a beacon in the forest.
Zeke's growing agitated, I can sense it in the tension of his shoulders, the way
his eyes scan the surroundings like a hunter on high alert. We're not alone. I
know it. The forest seems to hold its breath, and I can't shake the feeling of being
watched. The scent of my blood, a vulnerable invitation to unseen eyes.
I've heard stories, whispered tales of creatures lurking in the shadows, drawn to
the scent of blood like moths to a flame. In those stories, the protagonist is
warned not to bleed, not to become prey to the unseen dangers that roam the
wilderness. And here I am, bleeding, the warmth of it a stark reminder of my
vulnerability.
Zeke mutters something under his breath, a low growl that mirrors the ominous
sounds of the forest. He's on edge, senses heightened, and I can’t blame him.
The scent of blood, my blood, lingers in the air like a haunting melody. It's a
beacon that
calls to those who prowl in the darkness.
I close my eyes for a moment, trying to steady myself. The forest, once a
sanctuary, now feels like a labyrinth of hidden threats. The growls, the distant
sirens -it's a symphony of danger that echoes in the stillness. I can feel Zeke's
gaze on me, a silent reassurance that we're in this together.
I open my eyes, meeting Zeke’s gaze. There’s a flicker of concern in his eyes, a
silent acknowledgment of the—danger that lurks around us. The forest seems to
close in, shadows becoming more than just shadows. I press the makeshift
bandage
&5 against my neck, trying to stem the flow of blood, but it’s like trying to hold
back a river with my bare hands.
“Don’t worry,” he says, the warmth of his voice a balm. “I'll protect you. Just stay
with me.”
Stay with me. The words echo in the fog, a promise that cuts through the
confusion. I watch as Zeke crouches down beside me, his eyes never leaving
mine.
“I'm going to carry you,” he says, his words sinking in like a gentle caress,
“Okay?”
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) fain
Zeke's arms wrap around me, lifting
me with a strength that feels both
comforting and surprising. Bridal
,
style. I never thought I'd find myself
3 s Gn 5 ,
in this position, cradled in someone's
arms like a fragile whisper in the
wind. But here I am, the world still
spinning, and Zeke carrying me like
, 5 3
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chapter there!
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I catch a glimpse of his eyes, a
mixture of concern and
: : “ ) .
determination. “You're safe with me,
. » : :
Alina,” he murmurs, his voice like a
melody in the chaos. Safe. The word
resonates within me, a longing for
stability amid the swirling tempest. I
close my eyes, the motion feeling like
a surrender to the unknown. The
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As Zeke carries me, I can feel the
rhythmic beat of his heart against my
,
back. It's a steady rhythm, a lullaby
that soothes the edges of my
consciousness. The fog is thick, but I
) “
catch fragments of Zeke's voice,
: “ ) of
reassuring and gentle. “We're running
»
somewhere safe,” he says, the words
like a lifeline in the disorienting
darkness. The content is on
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I'm not sure where safe is. I'm not sure where we're going. But Zeke's presence,
the warmth of his arms around me, becomes a beacon in the fog.
“Don't worry, Alina,” he repeats, his voice a constant reassurance. “I've got you.
We're getting out of here.”
The words echo, and surprisingly, a sense of trust blooms within me.
I can feel Zeke's steady footsteps, the world outside his embrace a distant blur.
The growls, the sirens—-they're like distant echoes, reminders of the chaos we're
leaving behind. I want to ask questions, to understand the details, but the fog
within me refuses to lift. Instead, I focus on the rise and fall of Zeke's chest, the
comforting rhythm that carries me through the unknown.
“We're almost there,” Zeke murmurs, his voice cutting through the fog. Almost
where? I wonder, but the question lingers unspoken. Zeke'’s arms tighten around
me, as if he senses my silent inquiry.
“Somewhere safe,” he adds, his words a whispered promise. “I promise.”